


this hometown

by angelkoushi



Series: this pain won't be for evermore [2]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Athletic Trainer Iwaizumi Hajime, Canon Compliant, Fluff and Angst, Getting Together, Light Angst, M/M, Olympian Oikawa Tooru, Sad Ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-31
Updated: 2020-12-31
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:14:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28163010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angelkoushi/pseuds/angelkoushi
Summary: Iwaizumi Hajime had spent his entire life denying himself of something he's always wanted. That ends tonight.
Relationships: Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru
Series: this pain won't be for evermore [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2063205
Comments: 3
Kudos: 21





	this hometown

**Author's Note:**

> evermore (taylor swift) - **'tis the damn season**
> 
> _i won't ask you to wait if you don't ask me to stay_

***

Tooru has always looked good in blue, no matter the shade. 

The deep Kitagawa Daiichi blue made him look like a crown prince much at home on the court; the Aoba Johsai teal blue gave him the air of a king leading his troops to battle.

And the Argentine blue, the same shade as the summer sky under which they were both born, highlights the triumphant, satisfied smile on his face. It makes the gold on his chest glint and stand out.

Yes; Oikawa Tooru has always looked good in blue.

Hajime holds back, watches as Tooru faces the people who once broke him, who caught the back of his jersey and yanked him behind them while they sped ahead. Once, Ushijima’s face — the mere _mention_ of his name — sets Tooru off for an entire day. Now, he looks at Ushijima’s face with none of that hostility, and all of that ‘worthless pride’.

 _Not so worthless after all_ , Hajime muses.

Tooru was never quite the same ever since they lost against Karasuno. Hajime remembers weekends when Tooru would be out of the house by daybreak, jogging and conditioning until the sun was high. On weekdays he submerged himself in his studies, only to announce a few weeks before graduation that he was moving across the world.

The decision looked final on his face back then that Hajime didn’t have the room to question it. Nevertheless, he hoped they would _at least_ get to see each other during summer breaks — except he didn’t realize till too late that seasons were not quite the same all over the globe.

He hasn’t seen Tooru in almost ten years, and now that the king is back, it's like looking at someone entirely different. His skin carries a burnt gold hue, and his hair is much shorter, more tame. He walks with the pride of a well-seasoned athlete, with none of the bluff of a 16-year-old.

But what changed the most, Hajime muses, is that look on Tooru’s face: it's the face of a cat who got the mouse, except the cat has been chasing after the same mouse for years. He is glowing with that satisfaction, with pride that now has plenty of backing. 

He looks undeniably happy.

And something in Hajime’s chest swells: an overwhelming sense of pride in seeing the joy on Tooru’s face. Some time during the years he was away, Tooru must have found again the reason why he started on this journey in the first place. It is no longer a sport that drove him to the edge and forced him to destroy himself for the sake of getting better than those around him.

Tooru is glowing with joy now; joy and satisfaction and triumph. And Hajime can’t feel anything but proud, even if it was his team that Tooru conquered.

_You are the partner I can boast of, and the absolute best setter. Even if we end up on different teams, that will never change._

_It hasn’t changed at all._

Before Tooru could see him, Hajime turns around and walks out of the stadium. Suddenly the feeling in his chest is too heavy; he isn’t quite ready to face the reason behind it yet.

So he busies himself with his team: he helps Bokuto cool down, hands Hinata a cold towel, finds Atsumu’s water bottle for him, and tapes up Sakusa’s fingers.

 _There will be time for all that later,_ he thinks. _Anyway, he’s bound to be home for a couple of days, at least. I’ll see him then._

* * *

Hajime sees Tooru way sooner than he expects.

“Iwa-chan?”

Hajime has told his team that he’ll follow them to the hotel room they reserved for the afterparty. He has to take his car from Sendai Stadium, and he wants to take a shower and change at home anyway.

As he loads the trunk with his things, Tooru, in all of his Olympian glory, walks up to him.

“Oikawa!”

“I was looking for you!”

“Were you?”

Tooru scowls, and Hajime is pleased to find one thing he still recognizes off his childhood friend.

“I sent you texts, come on!”

“Oh, did you?” His phone has been vibrating non-stop since the game ended, but Hajime elected not to notice.

“Never mind. Iwa-chan—”

“If you’re here to gloat, stuff it. You deserved that win and you don’t need to convince me otherwise.”

He relishes in the small gasp Tooru takes, in the flush that runs across his face as he tries to cover it up.

“Mean, Iwa-chan! At least let me rub it in!”

“Where are you headed?”

Tooru blinks, remembering himself. “Oh, my sister asked if I could spend a few days at home. Mom wanted to see me, and I have things to give Takeru anyway.”

That house, they both know, is a mere five-minute walk to Hajime’s parents’ house. Hajime hasn’t been home to that house, or his house, for a long time either. He considers going home now.

“You’re not going to your team’s afterparty?”

Tooru smiles quietly as he shakes his head. “I promised I’d visit right after the game, since they couldn’t make it on site. Win or lose.”

“I see.” After a moment, he adds, “Do you have a ride?”

Tooru blinks. “I was planning to take the train. It’s not like I packed my car.”

Hajime frowns at that. “Somehow it doesn’t feel right for an Olympian to take public transport. Ride with me, I’m heading to Miyagi anyway.”

He doesn’t miss the slight widening of Tooru’s eyes that he quickly masks with a smirk.

“Mr. Big-shot athletic trainer’s got wheels! Aren’t _you_ heading to your team’s afterparty? Although I can’t even begin to imagine what there is to celebrate.”

Hajime clicks his tongue. “Alright, that’s enough from you. And I have pretty damn good wheels, Mr. Olympian.”

It’s easy: this banter, this trade of sassy remarks and sarcastic comments. With this, they could both pretend that this isn’t the first time they’ve seen each other in ten years. They slide into Hajime’s car, and soon they are zipping down the highway.

The sun has set in the horizon, and already the stars are blinking into existence. Everything is tinted in a fading orange hue. When they get out of the city, Tooru rolls his window down and leans out.

Hajime watches him from the corner of his eye. The wind blows through his auburn hair, but it never got anywhere close to messy. Tousled, mused, but never messy.

Tooru has never been anything but beautiful. He was beautiful in childhood, all bright eyes and long limbs and excited voice. He was beautiful in middle school, the rising star, even when he destroyed body and mind to keep up with a goal that always fell just beyond his fingertips.

He was beautiful in high school, with the cunning of a snake and the disposition of a lamb. He has grown into his hands and feet then, and Hajime once thought that he has already reached the peak of his metamorphosis.

But looking at him now, lithe and glowing and decked in Argentine blue, Hajime realizes that he has never been as beautiful.

Something aches in Hajime’s chest, and he draws his gaze away from Tooru. There is a lump in his throat that he struggles to swallow; it makes him grip the steering wheel. Tooru doesn’t notice the shift in his mood.

The drive passes in comfortable silence.

* * *

They stop by the Oikawa house first, and Hajime finds himself getting swept into the excitement of Tooru’s mother, sister, and nephew. Takeru, currently in junior high, demands to hang from both their arms to figure out who’s stronger. 

(Hajime would’ve liked to believe that there was no comparison, but Tooru is a conditioned Olympian and honestly, he’s a little past the age to compete with that.)

He lets himself be led into the house and fed some dinner — after all, he hasn’t told his family that he's visiting anyway. He can spare a few minutes, and he is happy to realize another thing that hasn’t changed. After all these years, the Oikawa house is still home to him.

The scene is pretty much the same when they get to the Iwaizumi house almost an hour later. Before Hajime even finishes parking, his parents are already running out into the driveway to welcome them home.

“Would you look at that? Tooru- _kun_! Is that you?”

Tooru glows under their praise. “It’s me! I missed you guys so much!”

“We missed you too! Hajime here never stopped talking about you ever since you left.”

Hajime chokes on air. “Right, well, let’s not crowd the driveway, yeah?”

Tooru raises his brow at him, and Hajime rolls his eyes before he ushers everyone indoors.

* * *

It takes ages for everyone to calm down, and only then was Hajime able to bring Tooru up his room.

“Wow, Iwa-chan, your taste is still…”

“Shut it. I haven’t been here in a while either, okay?”

When Tooru walks in, Hajime stops at the door. His bedroom walls are still plastered with posters of Godzilla and aliens and foreign volleyball teams. Once, that tiny cardboard room was big enough for both of their dreams to fit. Now, as Tooru takes a quick walk around, a dream-come-true incarnate, the space seems a lot smaller. Almost too small.

Somehow, seeing this new Tooru in his room, in a place that used to be so familiar to the both of them, has Hajime reeling. He isn’t sure which one is the dream and the reality.

He tells Tooru so. Tooru laughs at that.

“I’m still me, Iwa-chan,” he says quietly, setting himself on the bed as he has done many years ago, when each day that passed used to belong to both of them.

He looks perfect there, Hajime thinks. Tooru has always fit like a glove in his life; when he grew, so did Tooru. They outgrew and grew into the same things, at the same pace. Even now, with a near decade in between them, Tooru still perfectly fits.

Hajime leans against the door and crosses his arms for fear that he’d end up touching Tooru. No matter how much he wants to.

“Aren’t you going to sit?”

“I’m alright.”

“This is your room though.”

“Eh.”

“I see you’re still a dense blockhead.”

This time, Hajime frowns. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Tooru huffs, leans back on his hands. Exposes the long line of his neck to Hajime. The latter swallows.

“I’m saying, come over here, you idiot. You don’t need to hold back.”

Hajime doesn’t quite know what propels him forward. Is it that consent that he’s unconsciously longed for, so readily given? Is it the longing, the ache for the touch of something familiar that he hasn’t felt for a long time?

He stops thinking.

When he takes Tooru in his arms, the gold medal Olympian lets him. He is all sinewy muscle and tight, sun-kissed skin now, but in Hajime’s arms he softens, relents. Gives.

They both fall back on the bed, hands tracing lines and dips and curves as blind men would. Tooru’s fingers fly to Hajime’s hair, raking through his scalp. Hajime runs his knuckles down the side of Tooru’s face, and Tooru nuzzles against him.

They’ve never done this before, but somehow, it felt just right. Once, they had known each other like the backs of their own hands; this is just a reacquainting, a relearning of something they’ve once known so well. Muscle memory knows where to touch, to glide, to push and pinch.

Hajime wonders what lies beyond the night, what will happen when the sun begins to rise. They’ve just crossed a boundary with no easy way out. He knows well and good that this is not meant to last; Tooru is now a naturalized citizen of Argentina. Miyagi, Japan is no more than a rest stop for him, a place to visit for the holidays, and for no more than a few days.

He wonders if he can bear it, if he should stop right now instead of risking everything for a single night. 

Tooru sees his eyes wander, feels him disappear despite looming over him, so he pulls his chin to face him.

“I’m right here.”

And he is. Hajime sees that now. Tooru is right there, in his arms, on his bed, for the first time in a long time. They’ve waited too long for this moment to let it be clouded by what happens after.

So instead of worrying, Hajime rests his forehead on Tooru’s. Bumps his nose against his. Tooru giggles, lashes fluttering as his eyelids shut and open, and Hajime’s chest aches again.

“Can I kiss you?”

Tooru smiles lazily, runs his fingers through Hajime’s hair, traces down the length of his jaw. Rubs at his bottom lip.

“Thought you’d never ask.”

When Hajime’s lips touch Tooru’s, fireworks don’t explode. Stars don’t burst in the backs of his eyes. Rather, it’s like sliding on a well-worn glove, or wearing his favorite blue scarf. The embers in his heart grow warm, flickering into life.

Tomorrow can wait. For now, only this night, this darkness, this momentary warmth, is all that matters.

* * *

The fact that the sunlight streaming into his window was what woke him should have been a sign. It drew him out of his deep, warm stupor and into a cold, ruthless morning.

Hajime blinks his eyes open before stretching his arms above his head. The fact that he felt no resistance should have been another sign.

He yawns, mouth cracking wide, before he rolls over to grab his phone. (Another sign.)

8:56. He should have been up an hour ago.

He gets up from bed and pulls a shirt on, then walks around the room to where the bathroom in his apartment should have been.

Except it wasn’t, and he wasn’t where he thought he was.

Hajiem freezes, looking back on his bed. Apart from the rumpled sheets, tossed blanket, and the litter of pillows, there’s nothing else on it.

When something — some _one_ — should have been.

Hajime scrambles to grab his phone, but aside from messages from his team, there was nothing worthy of note. That is, until he saw the wallpaper.

It’s a picture of him asleep on his side, mouth hanging open and spiky hair squished against his pillow. Moonlight from outside the window outlined his bare form, and it was taken from the angle of someone lying beside him. His heart ached, and that’s when he noticed a sticky note on his bedside table.

_Hi, Iwa-chan._

_I’m sorry you have to wake up without me there. I had to say goodbye to my parents before heading back to Sendai, and my team is waiting for me. Our flight is at 9:30, but I didn’t want to wake you because you deserve the rest._

_Last night was one of the best nights I’ve ever had with you, which is saying a lot. I don’t regret it one bit. I hope you don’t, too. I’m not even sorry that we crossed a line. Knowing you love me the way I love you is worth more than my gold medal, and I’ll never forget it._

_But I have to go back to Argentina. That’s my place now. I won’t burden you with wondering what we are or how we’re going to do this anymore. Last night, everything in it was enough for me for the rest of my life._

_You’ll be happy someday, Iwa-chan. I know you will be. Someday, you’ll meet someone you’ll love, who’ll love you as much as you deserve, and will choose to stay with you. I’m sorry that that person can’t be me._

_Call me selfish or arrogant if it helps you. But even if you forget me, Iwa-chan (and I won’t blame you if you do), I won’t ever forget you._

_I love you. Always,_

_your Tooru_

***

**Author's Note:**

> First of all I'm sorry to end your 2020 in angst but this song has been for iwaoi ever since I first heard it, and it just felt more satisfying to end things this way.
> 
> But don't worry: there's a happy ending coming up for the both of them. Look forward to it. ^^
> 
> Thank you for reading! You can find me on Twitter: @angelkoushi.
> 
> Happy new year, and I hope you have a great 2021. ^^


End file.
